A/N:Just a short glimpse into Ponyboy and Mr. Curtis' relationship. Enjoy and happy holidays!

May 1957

Darry: 12

Sodapop: 8

Ponyboy: 5

Ponyboy never got to spend as much time with his dad as his brothers did. He was always taking the big kids on all sorts of adventures, reassuring Ponyboy that he'd one day take him too when he was old enough.

The more Ponyboy thought about it, though, the more he worried that he would never be old enough; because no matter how old he got, his brothers would always be bigger than him. So when Darrel Curtis Sr. declared that today was the day he was finally going to sort through the shed in the backyard, Ponyboy eagerly volunteered to help. Both his brothers were off at practice or out with their friends: he had his dad all to himself.

It was a warm day in May, warm enough for Ponyboy to feel as though the dust from the shed was sticking to him. He tugged on the collar of his shirt, something his mom was always telling him not to do, before ultimately deciding to take it off entirely. It was something his brothers did often, he figured it was time he tried it.

"Too hot for your shirt, Pone?"

Ponyboy nodded. "Mama will be mad if I ruin it, too."

"I reckon that's true," Darrel agreed, taking off his own shirt and hanging the both of them on a rusty hook.

Darrel sighed and surveyed the shed, trying to find something for Ponyboy to help with. "Why don't you start moving these boxes into the backyard so we can sort through 'em, son?"

Ponyboy did as he was told, eager to help despite the fact that most of the boxes were too heavy for him. He lifted what he could and dragged the rest, letting his dad help him with the heaviest ones.

The two boys worked for hours, sorting through the various boxes of things accumulated by the Curtis family over the years. Abandoned trophies, outgrown toys, and rusted tools were all removed from their respective hiding places, sorted, and re-positioned in the shed.

"Well Pony, that about does it. I'd say that's a job well done."

"Does this mean I can have a popsicle?"

"I dunno, it's getting pretty close to supper…"

Ponyboy flashed his famous puppy-dog eyes and begged with a power that was seemingly bestowed upon the youngest of every family. Darrel knew he let Pony get away with more than he should, but it was hard to say no when he looked at him like that.

"Alright Pone," Darrel finally agreed, "let's get ourselves some popsicles."

Ponyboy chose red, Soda's favorite color, while Darrel helped himself to green. The two sat on the porch swing, enjoying their popsicles in the breeze the evening brought.

"How'd you get such big muscles, Daddy?"

"What, these old things?" Darrel joked, flexing. "These are from lots and lots of hours spent roofing."

Ponyboy's eyes widened. "You must really like roofing then, Daddy."

Darrel hesitated for a moment, seemingly starting to say something before changing his mind. "Yup. You've got yourself the best roofer in all of Tulsa for a father, Pony."

"I'm gonna be a roofer when I grow up," Ponyboy proudly exclaimed.

Darrel turned to his son seriously. "You don't need to be a roofer like me, Ponyboy. You've got something I never had; you've got an amazing brain in that head of yours that you can use to be anything you want."

Ponyboy shrugged. "I dunno what I'm gonna be then."

"You've got time, kiddo, I'm sure you'll figure it out," chuckled Darrel. "Of all my kids you're definitely my wild card."

"I ain't a wild animal. Daddy. Soda is sometimes but not me."

Darrel chuckled. "A wild card means someone could end up being anything but you don't know what it'll be yet."

"Darry's a wild card. He's big enough to be anything."

"Yeah, but that boy's got his heart and head set on football. And after that, he'll probably go into some sort of business, maybe carpentry."

"And Soda's gonna fix cars," added Ponyboy, the popsicle juice dripping down his chin and hands.

"Yep, Soda's gonna fix cars. Maybe he'll even start building them one day. But you, Ponyboy," Darrel turned to his son and put a hand on his shoulder, "you're my wild card. I haven't got the slightest idea where your passions are gonna be."

"My passins?"

"Passions. What you're going to be interested in, do for a living. You're so smart, you could do anything you set your mind to, Pone."

Ponyboy looked thoughtful for a moment, eating the remainder of his popsicle while he pondered. "I could be a draw-er."

"An artist," supplied Darrel.

"No, a draw-er. Like someone who draws. That's what I wanna be, Daddy. Or a book reader."

Darrel ruffled his youngest son's hair. "Whatever you want, Ponyboy. You just use that amazing brain of yours and we'll be with you every step of the way.

Ponyboy had resorted to knawing on the wooden stick of his popsicle now that he had finished. "How come I don't get to be anything like you, Daddy?"

"Now what makes you say something like that?"

Ponyboy shrugged. "Darry said it once. He said that you and him were alike and that you and Soda were the same person. I told him he was wrong, 'cause you're my dad and Soda's my brother, but he didn't listen. He also said I'm different."

Darrel sighed. "You know, Pony, Darry wasn't very nice when he said that, but he's not exactly wrong. You and I, we're not very alike, but that's what makes you so special. You've got the brain I always wanted, and the talent I always wished I had."

Ponyboy nodded, trying to understand what his dad was telling him, while Darrel continued. "The two of us are different, but that doesn't make me less of your Dad than Soda and Darry's. All three of my boys are completely different, but that just means I get to love you all in your own special ways."

"So I don't gotta be like you or Soda or Darry?"

"Nope. All you've gotta do is be like Ponyboy, and that's enough for me."

Ponyboy nodded, tossing his popsicle stick into the garden. "I'm gonna go get a blue popsicle, then. Blue's my favorite."